


redeath

by tomioness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (guys you can't keep doing this), F/M, your favourite "failure to provide assistance" compilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22228915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomioness/pseuds/tomioness
Summary: They saw each other die so often, they lost count.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 3
Kudos: 52





	redeath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [devdevlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devdevlin/gifts).



They saw each other die so often, they lost count.  
_________________________________________________

It was 1351 in Warsaw. The Black Death had been haunting for 5 years. Hermione had lost her father just hours ago. He died lying in his bed. She couldn't cry. She couldn't look at the body. She couldn't even think about it. She just sat beside him and kept on knitting into the nightfall.

"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" Hermione freezed. Here it was. The sentence she was most afraid of. 

Handkerchief pressed against her mouth, she ran out the house, passed dead-carts and fires, heading away - out of town. Nothing kept her here anymore. "Bring out your dead!" followed her through the air. An air filled by the smell of decease and burning flesh. 

She started crying, so she ran faster. Tears blocking her sight, she stumbled, falling on her knees. 

There was a body on the floor. A teenage boy, covered in sheets. She was about to get up, when she realized that his eyes - dark glazy eyes - were searching hers. He was alive. Still. 

She couldn't help but stare. His cheeks were hollow, his forehead covered in sweat. His lips were so pale, she couldn't tell where they started. But his gaze was strong, his eyes piercing into her. Like she was everything he had. Because in this moment, it seemed like she really was.

"Bring out your dead!" 

She got up and ran. Faster than before.

_________________________________________________

It was 1491 in Germany. The Hammer of Witches had been published 4 years ago and people went nuts. They saw witches everywhere. And when they didn't, there would always be someone they didn't like. Tom had gotten rid of his mother, which was amusing. But by now, it wasn't exciting anymore. 

He stood outside his house, leaning back at his front door - watching as they prepared the stake like they did every day. 

There were 3 dead spoken people for today: An old man, mumbling to himself, eyes closed. A girl, not older than 8 who wept loudly. And a woman in her early twenties that seemed to put her entire focus into talking to the little girl, calming her down. 

So they chose the woman first. 

Tom watched how people spit on her. As the flames reached her and she began screaming in agony, he walked in his house, bored.  
_________________________________________________

It was 1852 in London. Hermione left her horrendous date behind and ran out of a shabby tavern into the dusky streets. Drunk slurs followed her through the rain. 

She walked through the puddles, holding up the layers of her skirt, her wet curls sticking to her face. She turned left, into the backstreets, trying to ignore the shadows that seemed to follow her.

She haltered as she heard breaking glass, followed by the cracking of a door. Two men fell out of another pub, their limbs entwined. "-- told you not to dare m-" Hit. "-fucking wanke-" Kick. Crunching.

Hermione held her head down. "None of my problems." she thought, keeping close to the walls.

Shot. Shot - Shot. She stops in her movement. A moan, followed by the sound of flesh hitting the mud.

Slowly she walked backwards.

_________________________________________________

It was in 1666 in Denmark. Tom sat on his usual place at the river, carving. The wind was cold today, the sky grey and closed. Just as he liked it.

He heard barking. Desperate screams, which got louder with every second. Pleading, Crying. 

And then, she was there. Between the high grasses of the other shore she erupted, stopping in front of the water.

He saw her tears from where he sat; her blood-stained clothes, her damaged skin and her wild hair full of dirt. He heard her hard breathing. He felt her despair.

She looked behind her, whimpering - answered by wild barking. Then, she looked at him for a moment. She jumps, hopeless. 

She cannot swim. But the dogs can. "Stupid girl." he thinks, as he stared, fascinated. He hopes the river won't take her body far away.

_________________________________________________

It was 1774 in France. Hermione spent the day selling pottery on the marketplace. The sun came out around noon. And with that, so did the hangman.

"A shame it is, this one. What a waste." She heard a woman say next to her. People were gathering, men started chanting. She never understood them participating in this.

They dragged a young man to the guillotine. Because he got caught touching something that wasn’t his. A highborn girl - promised to a highborn man. 

Hermione couldn’t blame the girl for falling for him. Anyone looking at his face wouldn’t. Even when facing death, he seemed calm, his features relaxed. Beautiful even.

She couldn't help watching this time. She stared - mesmerized. Stood in the middle of the booing crowd when the blade met wood and his blood hit her dress.

_________________________________________________

It was 1972 in Romania. Tom sat in the laundrette, waiting. He picked up a newspaper and lit a cigarette. 

Minutes passed, until he heard an angry growl from outside. A shout. "Get your ass back here!" A young woman stood on the other sidewalk, using her fingers to whistle. 

Tom saw her dog, which was clearly ignoring her. "Crooks, don't make me get y- NO" but it was too late. The dog jumped on the street, right into traffic.

And she ran after him, screaming, waving her arms. "Stupid girl.", he thought - just a second before it happened. Tires squeaking, a clash, her body colliding with concrete.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he turned back to his newspaper. Someone would surely get her some help. Or not.

_________________________________________________

It was 2089 in Luxembourg. Shit went crazy. People freaked out. They kissed, they killed. 

Hermione wondered if dinosaurs reacted the same when facing their asteroid.

She was in shock. Apathic nearly. Her reaction didn't seem to make any sense. Grabbing a hot chocolate, she decided to walk through the scream filled streets, to take a seat on a bench and watch the people around her.

Her gaze fell on a man standing in the middle of the chaos - on the other side of the street. He smirked, as he slurped what seemed to be a coffee. 

"Fucking psycho" she thought, taking a sip of her cacao. 

He approached her, asking for a seat like a gentlemen. Like the earth wasn't about the end in a minute. Like they had all the time in the world.

"Finally" he said. Hermione wasn't sure what he meant, but something inside her felt approval the second they both died.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. the dogs are fine.
> 
> 2\. WHAT ARE EVEN ENGLISH TENSES?
> 
> 3\. “you can’t just put 20 commas in one sentence” - first of all, i’m german.
> 
> 4\. is the word "laundrette" really a thing in english?
> 
> 5\. also "In Germany, unterlassene Hilfeleistung (failure to provide assistance) is a crime under section 323(c)[38] of the German Criminal Code: any person is obligated to provide assistance in case of an accident or general danger if necessary." ehm, oops?


End file.
